


i'll be the one if you want me to

by angelica_barnes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 01:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14461785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: ring around the rosya pocket full of posiesashes, ashesweallfalldown.





	i'll be the one if you want me to

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Say Something" by A Great Big World
> 
> based off :
> 
> What About Us - P!NK  
> Breakeven - The Script  
> Halo - Beyonce  
> Just A Dream - Nelly

 

It’s funny. 

It’s funny to think about how much easier it would’ve been, if they hadn’t all fallen in love with each other and also fallen from the sky with the realization.

It’s funny to think about all the things they’ve lost, all of which are more important than the billion things they’ve won, but…

It’s funny to think about how much they ignore the lights in Zayn’s eyes, and how they’ve gone dim. 

Funny to think about how Liam is only ever tired, instead of just every once in awhile and how his smiles are reserved for Zayn and full of wryness.

To think about how beautiful Harry is, and how much he’s damaged himself in trying to change that; he wants to be prettier, and prettier, because maybe then…

Think about Louis and his black clothing, so bright and red and stripey at one point but nobody wants a gay popstar, nobody (he’s - no, they’ve - been told a few thousand times).

About Niall. Who sits back and watches this all unfold with a smile, a forced and strained and perfect smile, and who’s there to take care of him?

It’s funny, yeah.

Maybe if they just keep telling themselves that…

So they laugh.

 

 

-

 

It’s not like Zayn asked for it.

That’s right. He never asked to be grabbed by rough fingers and sculpted into this perfect little pretty boy, he never asked to sing his own diary to millions of people, and certainly never asked to fall so deeply in love with Liam that he can’t seem to stop; he’s run out of things to grab onto.

Is it possible to love somebody that much? To keep falling in love with them so madly for five years? Just on, and on, and down, and… down.

Zayn thinks so.

Sometimes.

Liam is just, he’s so beautiful. He’s kind, and sweet, and maybe he doesn’t anymore but he used to smile at everyone, and… why he doesn’t smile anymore, Zayn’s got no idea.

Well, he does smile. Once or twice a month. At Zayn.

No one else.

Zayn doesn’t know if that makes him special or just an object of mockery, but either way, he’s willing to take the chance.

Because maybe if he tries hard enough, it can be the first one.

If he tries hard enough, maybe Liam will love him.

 

 

-

 

The thing is, Liam  _ does _ love Zayn.

He loves him like the sun and the earth and the moon and the stars love each other; he loves him like roses and irises and daylilys and chrysanthemums and daffodils; he loves him like tattoos and leather jackets and cigarettes and fakeness.

Maybe, then, his problem is loving Zayn too much.

After all, love is holding hands.

Not necks.

But then why does Liam feel like he’s choking? It  _ has _ to be Zayn’s fault, then, because his heart’s too broken to beat but it  _ does _ , and so maybe Zayn’s the only reason Liam’s alive.

Does it ever cross your mind, Liam sometimes thinks to Zayn, though he knows Zayn can’t hear him; does it ever cross your mind that maybe I like that I’m dying? That maybe I  _ want _ to die?

Except after he thinks that, Zayn will always come over and wrap his perfectly fitting arms around Liam (in another universe, they’ll say they were made for each other. In this one, they’ll say almost) and hold him until the thoughts go away.

Except, again… they  _ don’t _ go away, do they? They can’t be gone if they keep on coming  _ back _ .

 

 

-

 

Louis is one half of a monster.

That monster being him and Harry, because a monster is something (something, yes, not someone(s)) that crashes and burns and destroys and hurts everyone else, and that’s what they  _ are _ , isn’t it?

Love hurts, oh goodness Adele, you have gotten it so wrong. The last thought in Louis’ head before he falls asleep and Harry is bleeding out all his black blood in the bathroom somewhere.

Because no, love doesn’t hurt, love  _ kills _ .

Love has killed Louis, love is killing Hazza, love is attacking Zayn and not giving him a chance to rest and  _ Liam _ , Liam is the one who’s dying the slowest, lucky him, but eventually his weakened heart will give out.

He and Harry make a monster, Louis thinks, and his mind just happens to work in this cycle, he didn’t ask for it.

A monster, he thinks, chuckling softly to himself (it’s a dark, dark sound). And to think, once upon a time we had three superheroes to save us.

It’s funny… the thought of where’d they go never once crosses his mind.

(Maybe it should.)

 

 

-

 

Niall isn’t one to run around telling everyone’s secret. Contrary to the media.

All he’s wanted, honestly, is to help. He just wants to  _ help _ , give him his boys back and maybe he  _ can _ . Nobody knows them like Niall does,  _ nobody _ , because who’s been given the chance and maybe, have you ever thought maybe, he’s not supposed to be the only one. Other people should know Liam’s secrets, other persons should know Harry’s pain, other humans should know Zayn’s agony and other people should know Louis’ reasons.

And yes, maybe they’ve lived past their days of luxury.

We’re kids, Niall wants to scream, we’re kids and that’s why we’re like this - maybe we’ve gone past our twenties but what’s a kid to you? Five years old, because we were sixteen to eighteen when you stole us and made us your own toys to play with, and that’s us being  _ kids _ .

So maybe we’ve made a few mistakes - kids, just barely children -

So maybe we’ve fallen in love - kids, would you please let us grow up at our own pace -

So maybe we’ve brought this upon ourselves -  _ kids _ , kids, you monsters - kids!

So maybe we’re fuck-ups.

You made us this way; kids grow into the mold you created for them.

I wish my mom had raised us, Niall thinks. He glares.

Fists clenched (at all times).

 

 

-

 

Harry’s not a puppet (he likes to tell himself this). He’s not a playing piece (he likes to believe this). He’s not some little kid trying to hide from the world in his mother’s voice and a certain boy’s arms (he says this to the mirror every morning).

He’s not.

He’s really not.  
Bullshit.

Cause yeah, he’s not a puppet, he’s not a play piece, he’s not a little kid. He’s also not in love with Louis Tomlinson; all this is either right or wrong, so whatcha say?

Wrong.

Right.

This isn’t me, Harry wants to scream. Whoever performs for you at concerts, whoever signed your platinum album, whoever you love on your bedroom wall’s poster, that’s not me. I’m inside my head, inside my mind, I’ve been shouting for someone to let me out for ages -

I think too much and you’re not helping, Lou!

Why don’t you leave me alone?

Why can’t you let me struggle in piece?

… why do you?

I’m angry with you, Louis Tomlinson, Harry would like to whisper. Just once, ever so softly in Louis’ ear while he’s sleeping.

I’m angry with you, you pretty feather-haired boy.

 

 

-

 

If I’m dying, Zayn thinks (he is). Does that mean I’m dying because of you?

He’s looking at Liam when this thought comes to mind; Liam’s brown eyes are warm when they stare into Zayn’s, as if they’re searching him and his heart and his soul. Liam spares one of his few smiles then, and Zayn can feel the flutter of his heart beneath his ribcage.

Maybe Liam likes what he sees.

That’s impossible, Zayn shouts (he scolds himself daily for thoughts like these, if he wanted to die he’d punish himself physically too… die). That’s impossible, stop thinking he loves you, stop believing he cares, stop staring at all his perfection and just -

Die.

Die.

Die.

I don’t want you to go, Zayn wants to say, murmur it ever so quietly to Liam and kiss him for at least two seconds, two seconds that could perhaps pay for all he’s been through, maybe make up for it.

But I’m dying, he thinks, falling to his knees.

Liam catches him, holding Zayn in his arms, and Zayn closes his eyes to try and stop the tears that are already falling.

I’m dying, Zayn thinks.

I’m here, Liam.

I’m dying for you.

 

 

-

 

Maybe Liam doesn’t mind.

Scratch that.

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t mind how broken Zayn is, he doesn’t mind how many tears the older boy cries, he doesn’t mind why his love even feels this way.

But he does mind what’s causing it.

You’re hurting him, he pleads, and the bad men stare down at him with sneers on their faces; he knows they’re thinking he’s pathetic. He doesn’t care, because maybe he is.

We don’t care, he knows they’ll say. He can die for all we care.

Then he will, Liam thinks, as he’s holding Zayn in his arms; the boy’s finally asleep.

He’ll die, living like this.

But he won’t die without me.

 

 

-

 

Harry dies on a Wednesday.

Louis can’t quite process it; none of them can. They all fall to their knees, arms wrapped around themselves as the tears fall; some sob, some don’t. Zayn bites his lip to keep himself from crying out; Liam screams that NO!

They could’ve helped, Louis whispers brokenly. I could hear him crying.

We all could, Niall comforts with his face pale and ashen. We could all see it, we just ignored it.

We ignored him, it’s left unsaid.

But they all know the truth, and if they thought they were broken before, now they’re shattered. Their pieces are mixed and cutting every one else to shreds as barefeet fall upon the shards.

The worst thing is, Louis says softly, and Zayn is lying in Liam’s arms. His eyes are glazed over, as much as Liam’s expression is blank, and Niall’s knuckles have been rubbed red by his palms.

The worst thing is I could’ve saved him.

They all shake their heads; we could’ve saved him, Liam says, voice all cracked and raspy, and Louis shakes his head sadly.

He looks like hopelessness.

I could’ve saved him, Louis says. It’s my fault anyway.

How do you deny what’s true; Liam says nothing else and the air is filled with loud, overbearing silence.

They need Harry here to laugh, but he’s gone.

He died before the rest of them; he was the youngest, Zayn murmurs, and Liam shushes him.

Harry gives up on a Wednesday.

 

 

-

 

Days pass by even slower, it’s funny. And maybe this is what their mothers meant when they said one day their hearts would break, because nothing compares to this.

Nothing could possibly compare to this.

Why didn’t I see it? Zayn asks Liam, staring at his hands as if they’re red with blood; in Zayn’s eyes, they probably are. Liam doesn’t know what to say, so he kisses him, so lost in his grief that his fear has been snuffed out like the flame of a candle.

Zayn kisses back, but that’s as far as it goes; yes, they’re lovers now, but it’s more comfort than enjoyment. They try to find their lost selves in each other, and for awhile, it works.

Love isn’t something they ever thought they’d get; Louis cries and Niall thinks, and Zayn and Liam are in love but they don’t say it.

I love you, they’ve learned, are three words that could kill you.

With your own.

 

**** -

 

What if I was yours?

Louis’ still afraid to ask. What if I was yours, to Harry and Harry only - oh, Hazza. Baby doll, if I’d admitted I loved you, would you have run away?

Hopefully heaven exists. Hopefully it’s not just seeing one minute and black the next; it is, Harry will say.

Would say.

What if I left too? Louis does ask, to Niall, and the boy’s face goes white (well, whiter than usual, anyway). He runs his hands through Louis’ uncut hair, split ends tangling and catching in his finger nails.

You’re not going to, Niall whispers, desperately, and Louis looks away.

Look at me, Louis!

Louis listens, he’s still able to do that (even if he doesn’t want to). Niall’s eyes are filled to the brim with tears; he looks as if he’s about to cry even more than Louis has (is that possible?).

We love you, Niall rasps. We love you, and if I lose another fourth of myself, then I’m going to be half a heart.

Louis looks down again, and this time Niall doesn’t shout.

I’m sorry.

Sorry isn’t good enough, Louis.

(But it is. It has to be.)

 

 

-

 

Zayn smokes, it’s something he’s always done, and Liam watches him. It’s a bit mesmerizing, but -

Stop, he says, plucking the lit cigarette from Zayn’s lips. He presses the blaze to his hand, hissing for only a moment when the burn shows, and Zayn immediately grabs Liam’s and and runs his fingers lightly over the mark. He brushes his lips across the skin, not caring if his own skin is blistered, and Liam buries his hand in Zayn’s overgrown hair.

Don’t kill yourself like this, Liam whispers. Don’t kill yourself at all.

Zayn looks away, but he steps into Liam’s open arms and lets himself be held. It’s a start (the start of the end , or maybe that started a while ago).

Stay alive for me, Liam murmurs, clutching Zayn tight and trying desperately to grasp at the fabric; I need you. I need you to live.

Zayn closes his eyes and lets Liam admit it; I love you.

And he doesn’t say it back, but Liam knows.

 

 

-

 

Niall’s holding everyone together now; Harry’s stone was crafted by angels and punctured by humans. Stop, Niall shouts, even if to no avail. Stop coming to him, stop whispering to him, stop falling at his feet -

HE’S GONE!

And finally the scream comes alive and the other three don’t exactly know what to say or do as they watch Niall finally fall apart. Out of all of them, he’s the strongest,  _ was _ the strongest, and what happened to that?

Harry’s gone, Niall sobs, crying too hard. 

Harry’s gone.

And it’s too true a statement for any of them to want to face, but they do, and soon they’re all curled together and crying; except for Louis.

He’s let every tear he has fall.

(Harry’s gone.)

 

 

-

 

They’ve always been high when they’re happy.

It’s hard to believe they were ever happy, but they were once, when there five of them and fire was constantly being breathed down their necks.

High at the top of the world and they could do anything they wanted (they thought).

High on drugs on laughing into one another’s mouths in kisses that are all very, very forgotten (by some for real, by others for lie).

High up in the sky, standing on the edge of a roof hand in hand as they look down (it doesn’t look like a thousand crying eyes to them, it looks like freedom).

Liam’s the one that pulls them down.

(Niall takes a step, Zayn lets go, and Louis - well, Louis… Louis almost falls.)

 

 

-

 

And it’s  _ funny _ .

Laugh and laugh and laugh all you want, you’ll still choke on your tears.

I want to die.

And Niall never says it aloud, but they can all hear him, and so they try. They try to love him and to hold him and to keep him, but he slips away along with his resolve.

Stay, Liam says.

Come on, Zayn whispers.

We’ll be fine, Louis tells.

Lies.

_ Lies. _

LIES!

Niall can’t say anything, but his eyes flash.

Sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry.

… stay.

We will (it’s a promise).

 

 

-

 

It’s almost over, Liam coaxes, when Zayn is sick and he coughs and blood soaks his sheets, and Zayn looks up at him and pleads that he stays.

Liam does, kissing him.

I love you, Zayn is finally able to rasp, the last of his life, and then he slips through Liam’s fingers like the sun rays that have disappeared, even with the open blinds.

I love you too, Liam whispers, hoping that Zayn heard him before he died, and he stays with Zayn’s hand held in his until the silence becomes too much.

And he’s forced to face the number of heartbeats echoing.

(One.)

 

 

-

 

GODDAMMIT! Niall shouts, and Louis hasn’t spoken in months. He’s mute now, Liam thinks, but Liam doesn’t think much anymore.

I can’t live without them, Niall whispers. I know you guys loved them, but I really can’t… live…

They nod in understanding, and Louis envelopes Niall in his arms. The blonde boy just keeps cursing and screaming and crying, until Liam speaks.

Do you think they’re happy? He says, and Niall is suddenly silent, tears still streaming down his face. Wherever they are?

And Louis nods, even though Liam is just staring blankly out the window.

Yeah, he says, they’ve gotta be happy.

Liam nods this time; let’s hope.

 

 

-

 

Liam looks at the scar on his hand, the red circle where the cigarette butt pressed into his skin, and where Zayn’s lips would brush and kiss and caress the blistering skin.

It should probably be a reminder that forever doesn’t last that long, and that life always finds a way to end before it’s supposed to. Before it’s deserved to.

But it isn’t.

It’s a token of memory, sure - one of Zayn’s touches and Zayn’s eyes and Zayn’s absolute love for him; it’s the leftovers of a love that could’ve made it to forever, if they’d been given the chance.

Liam wishes, god; he wishes more than anything that they had the chance.

 

 

-

 

Niall is the next… to…

Leave.

It’s funny, isn’t it? They always thought he’d be last.

They’d only been driving for a few minutes, and then the car flew from the streets as they went around a turn, and the tires skidded in the rain and the car careened itself up into the air, landing harshly on its back.

And Niall was thrown, window glass stuck in his sides and gushing blood, and Liam held him in his arms as Louis called the medics and they all cried.

But Niall was smiling, even as the life in his eyes began to dim.

I’ll say hi to Hazza and Zaynie, alright? He whispered. I’ll stay with them. I’ll tell ‘em you love ‘em.

And Liam just shakes his head and cries, cries with Louis and for Niall and Niall just cracks jokes about how they’d better have food, and for a moment, it could be almost like six years ago.

But then his hand falls limply on the pavement and he’s gone, but at least peacefully, and Louis places his fingers over Niall’s eyelids and gently pulls them down to cover the pale blue pupils.

Rest, he says. Let’s just pray that he’s happy.

And Liam nods, smiling for once in a million years without Zayn, and the medics arrive with their sirens blaring and Niall is taken from their arms; not without a fight.

Died trying to be happy, Liam muses, feeling strangely light-headed, and Louis nods.

That’s what happened to them, isn’t it?

Liam nods, It’s what’ll happen to us all.

 

 

-

 

And so Louis and Liam are the only ones left.

Left behind like trash on the beach.

Plastic cups at a party.

Confetti at a concert.

What’s wrong? Louis asks, and Liam smiles wryly.

It’s not happy, or pretty.

It’s bitter.

(Not sweet.)

Everything, he answers, and Louis doesn’t argue.

 

 

-

 

Do you think, Liam whispers, and Louis barely stirs in his arms. No more sleeping alone, they’ve decided -

Do you think, Liam repeats, softer. Do you think that in another life, we could all be happy?

There’s silence; Louis’ asleep.

Maybe, Liam says, answering his own question. Maybe we’d be living together. Zayn and I would be married with four daughters, and you and Harry would’ve been married since eighteen and twenty and you’d have twins, and Niall would find a pretty girl with green eyes and settle down? And we’d have Chinese takeout and laugh over old movies, and maybe Harry would have a sister.

A pause, then; I think Harry would be a great brother, don’t you think?

And then Liam’s voice gives out, so he tangles his fingers in Louis’ hair and closes his eyes.

Yeah, Louis whispers a few minutes later, and Liam is startled; he didn’t expect him to be awake.

Yeah, Liam says.

 

 

-

 

Their life is constructed of broken silence and unspoken words now. Louis is usually the one with the one-word answers, and Liam becomes that person who asks too many questions.

Like this one,

Are you afraid?

And Louis, unexpectedly, answers in a sentence.

No, he says. I’ve got nothing left to lose.

And Liam won’t point out that they’ve got each other, because they’re just shells of once-human beings, really.

 

 

-

 

Why have you been calling Zayn? Louis asks, holding up Liam’s phone, and Liam shrugs, staring at the floor and picking out little strands from the carpet.

Come on, Liam, Louis says. I don’t call Harry. I don’t text Niall.

Liam shakes his head and whispers a tiny confession that really means the world; They can’t be dead.

And Louis sighs, but it catches in his throat, and he thinks he might cry. Again.

No, he whispers, falling to his knees and pulling Liam into arms, and he knows he’s not Zayn but he can try to be. He can try to be, to save Liam from this hell they’ve all fallen into.

They’re gone, Liam. They’re not coming back.

And Liam shakes his head frantically and pushes Louis away, curling in on himself and rocking back and forth.

They can’t be. He can’t be. He’s gotta come back to me, Louis, he can’t leave me… he promised.

He promised all of us, Louis says.

We all promised each other we’d be fine.

 

 

-

 

Louis? Liam asks, timidly. He pushes open the door and Louis is sleeping, yeah.

His eyes are closed, he’s not moving; his breath is gone, just like Zayn’s all those months ago.

Liam feels numb.

(He falls asleep on Louis’ chest and in the morning, he calls the hospital and tells them his friend’s died.)

(He leaves out the part about having lost everybody else too.)

(It’s better this way, he reasons.)

 

 

-

 

Liam climbs the stairs slowly.

Not to give himself time to change his mind, no. He won’t. Just to give himself time to think.

About Louis. And how much he misses him.

About Harry. And how much he regrets not realizing it sooner.

About Niall. And how much he wants him back, laughing.

… about Zayn. And how much Liam loved him. About how much he loved Liam.

He gets to the top and opens the door; he walks slowly to the edge and he looks up at the sky.

I’ll be there soon, he whispers. I’ll be with you soon. Just wait a little longer.

And the moon smiles, outstretching her hands.

Liam closes his eyes.

He doesn’t pull back this time, he steps forward and lets himself fall, the wind whipping his hair and clothes and he finally feels free; a smile stretches across his lips as he crashes against the pavement.

Died trying to be happy, indeed.

What a broken, broken man.

 

 

-

 

In the end - yes, there’s an end. All things come to an end, because none of it was good.

They’re all gone, and the sadness seeps from their bones into someone else’s. Many someone elses.

The worst thing is that they never got to learn what happily ever after was.

(Not is.)

 

 

-

 

So I just hope that somewhere, they’re all holding hands and smiling.

 


End file.
